


maybe i'm all messed up in you

by cherryvanilla



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-17
Updated: 2010-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My moral standing is lying down."  Or, in which Arthur wants, needs, and takes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe i'm all messed up in you

**Author's Note:**

> Title, summary and lyrics by Nine Inch Nails.

**I.** _Well, I wanna wrap it up  
and swim in it  
until I drown_

________________________________________

Arthur is begging for it. Eames is straddling his thighs, bare skin on bare skin, dicks so tightly pressed together that Arthur’s head rolls back at the sensation, slamming against the wall. “Eames. Let me. Please.”

Eames’ mouth is on his shoulder, tongue trailing along the juncture of his neck. Eames’ hand is wrapped around them both, his knuckles digging into Arthur’s stomach with every stroke. “Say it,” Eames gasps, his breath hot and wet against Arthur’s earlobe.

“God, Eames, I have to fuck you. Please,” his hands travel down Eames’ back, fingers gripping his ass, splayed and dipping lower.

Eames catches his lips in a bruising kiss, and it’s hot and hard and Arthur can’t handle it anymore. Eames has been kissing him and teasing him for at least 40 minutes now. He’s sucked Arthur’s dick, mouthed his balls, bit his nipples until they were raw and red, and he’s barely let Arthur touch him. Arthur is begging because he needs this, Jesus fuck he needs it. Arthur isn’t used to letting go control but he isn’t going to deny the deliciousness of Eames trying to gain some power. Hell, until an hour ago he had no idea what Eames felt like at all and now he’s here, in his bed, and Eames is getting off on Arthur’s begging. Arthur just hopes Eames will actually let this happen.

“You want me to ride you? Look at you, gagging for my ass, Jesus Christ, Arthur.” Eames looks out of his mind and Arthur gazes down between them; his dick is dripping with pre-cum and Arthur’s not sure if he’s seen anything hotter in his life. Then Eames is kissing him again and Arthur uses this moment to flip Eames onto his back.

“Arthur,” Eames growls. But Arthur isn’t listening; he’s got his hands all over Eames. Eames’ legs are spread open and Arthur drops right in between them, lapping up the pre-cum and moaning around it. “Oh, fuck, Arthur.” Eames sounds like he’s dying. Arthur brings his fingers to Eames’ mouth, and he greedily laps at them.  
Arthur pulls off, relishes in Eames’ cock pressing against his nose, breathes in deeply. “Gonna fuck you so hard,” he mutters, licking lazily at the side of Eames’ cock and feels Eames moan around his fingers. Arthur swallows Eames down again in one smooth motion, causing Eames to cry out, hips arching against the bed. Arthur holds him, urging him back up and Eames fucks his mouth with all his might. Arthur watches Eames’ face, one hand thrown over his eyes, as he bites down on his bottom lip: Arthur will never forget this moment.

Eames whines when Arthur pulls off again, and Arthur, still holding Eames by the hips, leans back on his hunches and urges Eames to turn over. When they’ve re-situated (it’s always awkward, don’t believe the movies), Arthur parts Eames’ cheeks roughly and licks one long swipe across his hole. Eames makes a sound Arthur has never heard before, and Arthur can feel his own pre-cum leaking down his cock. Arthur reaches down and tugs at his dick, in time with his movements. His nose is buried in Eames’ ass, and he darts his tongue in, fucking him in sharp, quick jabs.

“Arthhurr..”

Arthur doesn’t know how he’s going to last. Eames’ accent gets thicker and his voice rougher the more turned on he is; even if this never happens again, Arthur will have jerk off material for the rest of his days.

“Incredible,” Eames is gasping. “Fucking.. oh, god, love..”

Eames’ words might be destroying Arthur more than his sounds. He stops stroking his cock, uses both hands to pull Eames’ cheeks wide and fucks him like an animal with his tongue, lapping at him like he’s starving, and it’s wet and so dirty and his fucking face is soaking, and suddenly Eames is bucking beneath him, tensing and, oh, oh my god.

“Arthur! Oh my god, don’t stop, I’m..”

“Yes,” Arthur moans against Eames’ ass. “Oh fuck, come for me..” Arthur’s body is on fire, his balls are tingling, and Eames is panting his name over and over like they’re the only two syllables he knows, while sharp jolts of electricity shoot through his cock at the knowledge that he’s making Eames come just from his tongue in his ass. He fucks him deeper, harder and Eames screams, and he can’t take it any longer. Eames is still trashing but Arthur needs this now. He pulls off, and reaches over Eames, grabbing the lube and condoms from the bedside drawer. He can hear Eames panting into his 400 thread count Egyptian sheets; he doesn’t want to think of the mess they are making. Arthur tries to get his breathing under control as he rolls on the condom, his cock twitching in his hand. Eames is looking back over his shoulder and, Christ, licks his lips.

“How bad do you want this?” Arthur asks, voice rough; he knows he’s going too far, asking too much from Eames.

So his heart nearly bursts out of his chest when Eames responds, “I’ve never wanted anything more.” There’s no flippant tone, no overt sarcasm. Just pure, raw sincerity. It was supposed to feel like a victory; instead, it feels like a gift. And in that moment, if it hadn’t already happened in the span of five years time, Arthur’s pretty sure he’s fallen in love. He slides up against Eames, their bodies fitting against one another. Arthur hooks his leg around Eames’ thigh and pulls him in closer, Eames wincing when their groins meet. Arthur kisses him, deeply, with all the passion he has stored up, waiting for this very moment. Eames is pulling him closer, and Arthur’s mouth moves to trace the sharp, black lines of his tattoo.

“Arthur, please..” And he’d nearly forgotten... he was so caught up in his personal revelation that Arthur has to shake his head to remember they’re not exactly done here.

He looks at Eames, their eyes meeting for the first time in long minutes. “How do you want me?” he whispers.

“Every way,” Eames barely breathes back, his fingers spread wide on Arthur’s hip, lightly stroking. “But for now, I want my legs around you, so I can watch you fill me up, Jesus, Arthur, do it,” Eames’ voice cracks by the end of his sentence and Arthur reaches around, slides one finger into him as Eames shifts his leg to give more action. “Gonna tease you first,” Arthur moans, while Eames licks a long line up his neck.

He looses himself in Eames’ arms around him, Eames’ body so close and thinks about earlier this evening, inviting Eames out after another post-inception job gone all too well.

__________________________________

 **II.** _I’m drunk and right now  
I’m so in love with you  
and I don’t want to think too much  
about what we should and shouldn’t do_  
__________________________________

Eames didn’t want to go to the bar; tried to beg off to his own hotel, claiming a flight early in the morning, while Arthur tried not to remember Eames declining his previous invitation to crash at his apartment. Arthur had been on his way towards drunk, but it wasn’t for justification of his feelings. He wanted Eames, inebriated or not. Has for quite some time now, and he’s accepted it. Except Eames didn’t want him, had barely even paying attention to him at the bar. He sat there while Eames idly nursed a jack and coke, and stared at something over Arthur’s right shoulder. Arthur had refused to look at whatever was capturing Eames’ attention. Instead, he made random chatter, already defeated in his own mind, and doubted Eames even realized the lack of enthusiasm in his voice as he discussed the merits of legalizing marijuana. Arthur knew Eames filled his dialogue with sarcasm, irony, and brutal honesty. He’d tell Arthur if he was fucking something up on the job, and Arthur would do the same. But Eames also held him at arms length when it came to actually conversing about things other than work. Eames is cool, calculating and seemingly bored by him.  
Fact of the matter was, Arthur was sure he’d analyzed their relationship more in those five minutes than Eames had done in the past 5 years.

By the end of the evening, Arthur had given up, and when they stood outside in the light drizzle, waiting for a cab, he wished he was anywhere but that sidewalk.

Eames shuffled his feet when the cab came, and Arthur was thrown by the gesture. “You want this one, or..?” Eames eyes betrayed nothing and his voice was even. But that shuffle of feet..

Arthur recalled five years of carefully placed words, when he wanted to be anything but careful with Eames. He recalled trying not to wear his emotion on his bespoke sleeves when it’s second nature to him. He thought of schooling himself to Eames’ sense of their relationship, because Eames couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Arthur’s no longer a Lieutenant, and they’re no longer in competition. Arthur doesn’t understand why he has to be subjected to a life of arms length behavior just because he’d told Eames he doesn’t like him and never would one, fucking once, four years prior. And finally, he thought of going home to his empty apartment, in the cool rain, and decided fuck that noise.

“I purposely accept jobs that need an excellent forger,” he said instead.

Eames whipped around, mouth open. “Wha -- ?”

“And then I see you, and think I’ll just fuck it up, so why am I bothering. But I keep doing it.”

“Arthur..” Eames started, and took a step closer. Eames stared at his collar, which was unbuttoned. Come to think of it, Eames had started after he’d undone it and loosened his tie it earlier, but Arthur had thought he’d been looking elsewhere. Somewhere, a cab driver honked his horn. “I think you want to ask me back to your place.”

Arthur’s heart thudded in his chest and he licked his dry lips. “Was it really that easy?”

Eames laughed, a little sharply. “If you call five years easy, then yes.”

_________________________________

 **III.** _The sweat in your eyes  
the blood in your veins  
are listening to me_  
__________________________________

And that’s how he’d found himself with Eames in his bed, now lying on his back, legs bent at the knee while Arthur fucks him with two fingers. By now, Eames is panting again, and his cock was slowly filling, to Arthur’s surprise.

“You’re gorgeous,” Eames gasps, palming Arthur’s hip. Arthur leans over, kissing him deeply and fucking him harder. Eames whines and pushes upward. Arthur’s cock is harder than it’s ever been and he decides to take pity on himself; he lifts Eames’ legs and they wrap immediately around his waist, guides his cock in with one hand, while the other rests on the juncture of Eames’ shoulder and neck. He doesn’t stop staring at Eames until he’s all the way in; relishes how his eyes go dark and wide and his mouth falls open with pleasure when Arthur’s in to the hilt. They hold still, then Arthur leans forward more, covering Eames’ body and kissing him, while Eames’ gasps “fuck me, baby” around his lips, “fuck me so hard, come on, Arthur, give it to me,” and Eames is so fucking filthy Arthur can’t handle it.

“Who’s begging now”, Arthur gasps and bites at his jaw while he moves, slow at first, building speed as Eames’ heels dig hard into his upper back.

“Never said, oh fuck..” Eames stops and Arthur knows he’s hit it, and grins to himself, “..I was above begging. Fucking love your cock, Arthur, want you to fuck me open.”

“Christ, Eames,” Arthur moans, and pulls out abruptly, before repositioning Eames’ legs over his shoulders. He slams back in, fucking him with earnest, into the mattress, Eames’ now fully hard cock bobbing between them. “Want to fuck you all night,” he moans.

Eames growls and meets him with every stroke, “That can… be arranged. Changed my .. oh, flight, while you were...in the bathroom.”

Arthur can’t even process that, just pulls at Eames’ hair and licks a long line up his exposed throat. This is the best fuck Arthur’s ever had, ever, and it’s not even over yet. He wants to flip Eames over and take him from behind, wants to cover his body and press him into the mattress, wants to fuck him against the wall and then on the floor when they  
collapse mid-fuck.

He’s suddenly aware of Eames gasping, “Oh, god, yes,” and it’s then he realizes that he’s not only fucking Eames harder than ever, the bed squeaking with every movement, but that he’s also spoken that litany aloud and Eames is saying, “God, fuck me every way, anything, just don’t you bloody stop.” And then Arthur grabs Eames’ dick and strokes him hard and fast as the sweat pours from his hair, down his forehead, dripping onto Eames’ skin and says, “Gonna have to stop eventually.”

Eames’ face is red and slick with sweat, his skin is gleaming and his eyes are a little cloudy and unfocused and Arthur wonders if he really did get Eames drunk enough for this, and then his stomach clenches as Eames claws at his back, grinding himself harder onto Arthur’s cock.

He can’t help it; curse of saying what you’re thinking. “Are you drunk?”

Eames’ eyes are wild, and he’s pulling Arthur closer. “What? Arthur, I have no idea what you’re on about, but right now I’m only drunk on you, love.”

And that’s all Arthur needs. He folds Eames practically in two, pushing deeper, biting at the dark lines of his shoulder and stroking Eames’ cock with the other hand until Eames bats him away.

“Just from this, god, make me come again,” Eames pants and Arthur will, even though he realizes the orgasm ratio will be terribly unfair, but he can’t not and lifts Eames’ legs higher, hitting his prostate with every thrust and throwing his head back until Eames cries out and clenches around him.

It’s all Arthur needed, and finds himself sobbing out a choked moan that might have been Eames’ name, or something slightly more incriminating, as he comes hard. Then he’s falling forward, sliding out as Eames groans achingly when his legs finally drop.

The next several minutes are filled with nothing but harsh panting, heaving chests, and futile attempts to avoid wet spots. Finally, Eames rolls onto the floor and Arthur sweeps at the damn sheets, tugging them off, haphazardly. Eames is sprawled out on Arthur’s carpet, arm thrown across his forehead, undone. Arthur stares for about 10 seconds, and then hauls Eames onto the bare mattress; he’s too fucked out to put on new sheets and that’s saying something. Eames hands him some tissues from the bedside and Arthur grins at him lazily. Eames tugs him closer and Arthur closes his eyes.

After a few minutes, and with Arthur, finally, now feeling awkward (seriously, his tongue was in the man’s ass), Eames sighs contently and says, “That was.. yeah, there’s no words for what that was.” And now Arthur feels even more awkward because it sounds like the obvious thing one says after a perfect, dirty, hotter than fire one night stand.

Arthur just hums, and tucks his face against Eames’ shoulder. “Of course, I want to wreck you completely so the question remains: is that offer to stay here still open?”

Arthur tries to mask the smile Eames can undoubtedly feel curving against his skin, but it’s not viable. Instead, he makes a soft sound of agreement, and bites his lip for the next 90 seconds so as not to tell Eames he can stay forever.

[end]


End file.
